http://www.thestarlitecafe.com

 
In the end we return to our earth.
The very same earth from which we were born.
And it will take us in death like it brought us at birth.
It happens to one, to all, yet the majority mourns.
For what purpose mourns the majority?
Life is merely a blink of an eye to Time.
Indeed people die. Indeed it's a pity,
But for what purpose mourn on your behalf or mine?
Seldom do I worry, and seldom do I care
Whether or not I live to see tomorrow.
It may be a beautiful day, sunny and fair,
Or, more likely, a dark day of malice and horror.
Impossible to tell or know the future,
Yet believe you me I see dismay.
A pitiful world corrupted by the money creature,
In which life is guided by the dollar of hate.
Give up now, and sell it your soul.
It's no use fighting when your team has thrown in the towel.
The money creature razed and burned your hope-houses
And left in their place this darkness so foul.

By yousolastsummr
(Just a sampling of the starlitecafe.com)

Running through the mountains
Tramping through the woods
I saw a rugged hunter
Drinking his secret brew
Down from the mountain
A wolf came near
And surprized the hunter
And bit him on the rear
His blood started pouring
All over the camp
And I ran from there
As fast as I can
Running through the mountains
Running through the woods
I hurried on from there
As fast as I could

RAYMOND FRENCH

Thanx for your complements. I really mean it, check our starlite cafe.com ( I think?) it has alot of poets and you can submit your own there too

Nice!

I'm impressed!

Cold chills of the night
Of a muggy,dreary sight
A scarecrow in a sheet
From the stairs it leaped
Glow from the eyes
From a dead mans mind
From soul of a corpse
Came a howl and roar
I was dreaming
As it was singing
I accepted the fact,
So befudled,I sat
Making the image vanish
became the disadvantage

RAYMOND FRENCH at Starlitecafe.com

That's me LOL

Who is Raymond French? I like his work :o)

As I sit reading Science Fiction
through time,fantasy and space.
I would like to mention
something of the human race:
Our Lord GOD has forgotten us
and we survive alone
and contaminated by radiation dust
we loose our loved ones and homes.
People are savagely eating their kind
to feed thyselves,for food is gone.
For abodes is hard to find.
Away from another race,we run.
They are the beings of space.
and they have landed upon the Earth.
They chase and kill the human race
for it's own generations birth.
With the crumbled streets,
they sail the ruins of a dead city
and the worlds in mammoth defeat
as they march in quantity...
As I shut this horrid book
and growing into fear,
I get a terrified look
'Could This Happen Here?'

RAYMOND FRENCH

See the house on Friers Bay,
Where the children love to play?
Yet in it's beauty,roams a killer,
In the presents of your sight,a chiller.
What makes the children so brave,
And the old folks so gray?
Even after six years of quiet,
The people knew the houses plight.
One time,there was the loudest scream,
The most horrid nightmare,youd dream.
On the morn,next day,
A tortured and beaten corpse lay.
Nobody could solve the crime,
No weapons or clues,they didn't find.
To this day,since that year,
This community lives in fear.
They know screams are still heard,
But not a soul admits the murmur.

RAYMOND FRENCH

Fencer can be so cruel sometimes, eh?

Wow! You WILL be missed.

Seated in my study dreaming, all the air about me teeming,
Images of lost years streaming, broken strands of yesterday –
Through the pane comes moonlight gleaming on my face, O ever seeming
To intrude with clever scheming, secrets hid in every ray –
Might there be a cryptic meaning in this strange, unearthly play
Shining o’er this brittle clay?

Outside my door the wild wind sleeps ‘neath dusky sky and western steeps –
Succumbs the Summer; Winter creeps into my sanctuary –
Into my blood dejection seeps as ‘round a nook a lorn eye peeps,
And sorrow rises from the deeps to clothe this sad-eyed Fairy –
The silence moans, the twilight weeps, and all the world’s contrary –
Lost ghosts glide o’er the prairie.

In the gloaming, beyond the coast, there march the souls I treasure most;
Beneath the crescent moon a hoste of warriors in the fleeting day –
Of treasures lost I surely boast and place my name upon the Post
Which stands like some unliving ghost on the edge of my dismay –
I lift the glass and make the toast to ghosts whom I would fain belay –
Old soldiers lost in the fray.

Some ghosts are living, some are gone to hollow holes in lands unknown
Where starlight gleams as cold as stone and black-eyed demons bar the gate –
A curse it is to be alone, lost in that chilling, timeless Zone
Where ev’ry echo is a groan against the calloused hands of Fate –
There is, in sooth, cause to bemoan a Cosmos laid on slabs of hate,
Whose Lord I dare to inculpate.

My ancestors were men of steel and to them now I must appeal,
For though they’ve passed, they are more real than far-fetch’d gods of make-believe –
O shadows flee! O Satan reel! before whose throne all cowards kneel –
I’ll make no parleys, strike no deal, nor let my mind his lies deceive –
Let others yield, their hearts congeal – I’ll never give nor ask reprieve,
Though he doth my soul bereave.

Father, you have gone to the grave, that mystic realm, that far enclave
Where all my future hopes once clave, while still I searched for the Grail –
The Earth takes back what once she gave no matter how we fret or rave,
And what is free she’ll soon enslave and lead along the ancient trail –
Wash now my heart, my spirit lave! O Goddess underneath the Veil –
‘Gainst thee I shall never rail!

I’ve surely lived in Hell-bent haste, as if there were no time to waste –
Each moment might have been encased, and here the pain of loss allay –
But she beckoned, so I raced until I had myself out-paced,
And left my heart and mind un-braced for dark emotions long at bay –
With sadness now my soul is laced in mounting grief too great to weigh –
Against myself I must inveigh.

Riding now on wave-upon-wave, plunging into the nethermost cave,
Where music swells my soul doth crave, once more my heart to impale –
For though I be so bold, so brave, I’m still, in truth, a simple slave
Who clings to chains within this Nave to withstand the bitter gale –
I cannot walk the path I pave, nor can I gaze beyond the pale –
To be mortal is to fail.

I summon ghosts from far and near to inspire hope and withstand fear,
But ofttimes shed a lonely tear while gazing into the Past –
Too long! too long! those voices dear have failed to grace this yearning ear,
And phantoms vanish while I peer into the dismal gloom so vast –
No ripple on the haunted mere reveals the anchor vainly cast –
I am left alone at last.

O come, bright Maiden, lithe and fair, and guide me to thy hidden lair –
For I am yours, I now declare, against impossibility –
Entwine me in thy silver hair and lift the burden I can’t bear,
As I ascend the arcane stair into thy dark tranquility –
I’ll sit beside thee in thy chair and praise thy high facility –
Blessed rare ability!

A puff of smoke, a sip of wine preserve my memories in brine,
And I take oath: I will be thine, O Maiden fair, O spectral Dame –
Take I this Vision for a sign that you, my Lady, will be mine;
Upon thy breast I shall recline, and lay to rest this mortal frame –
Be thou my Love, my true Ensign, for never will I be the same –
My Love, what is thy name?

Now darkness falls, the Vision’s fled – I must bestir myself to bed,
Content to know my soul is wed to the Sylph of my delusion –
For though my Angel now is dead, when all is done and all is said,
She ever lives within my head, and all else is confusion –
These ghosts are rather real instead, and this is my conclusion –
Dare not call it Illusion!

I've got many fathers
I've got many mums
and I've got many sisters
and I've got many bros
My fathers are yellow
and my mothers are red
my sisters are white
and my brothers are black

I'm more than ten thousand years on the run
an my name is just MAN
Lord more than ten thousand year on the run
you may call me just MAN

And I live by the air
and I live by the light
and I live just by love
but I live by the bread
equipped with two eyes
that grant me to look
equipped with two ears
that grant me to see

I'm more than ten thousand years on the run
an my name is just MAN
Lord more than ten thousand year on the run
you may call me just MAN

But we have an enemy
who uses our day
who uses our energy
to plain him a way
equipped with two eyes
refusing to view
equipped with two ears
that don't hear what's true

He's more than ten thousand years on the run
an his name is just MAN
Lord more than ten thousand year on the run
you may call him just MAN

I know we shall fight
and surely prevail
I know we shall live
and love never fail

And it won't last ten thousand years anymore
see the time matures soon
Lord no ten thousand years anymore
We shall own Earth and Moon.

tranposed from german songlyrics
( "Mein Name ist Mensch" by "Verletzte Helfer" )
by Danilo * I-2004

That is a good idea and I will make a suggestion to Fencer, thanks. But of course the choice is Fencer's and I thank him for allowing this wonderful board to begin with...and for allowing me to moderate it.

Are you going to have Fencer put someone else in charge while you are gone? And NO I'm NOT asking for the job, in fact I dont want it LOL

This board has always been a work of art and a thing of beauty. :o)

the message may merely be deleted after fullfilling
its purpose
- Dano has always tried to protect the beauty of this board.

Send him my thanks and continued happy new year.

He was banned after refusing to negotiate facts with the
bad-concience fencer, although blocked, creeping into his
message box. I was asked to forward his greetings and a frolic

"Hi - we'll stay connected despite of any helpless
fumbling of corrupt webmasters, as usual. :D ~*~"

I too want to wish all honest player a happy new year. :-)

bravo taurec -- HNY to u as well ;·)

      ~ MS

For everything seemed resting on his nod,
As they could read in all eyes. Now to them,
Who were accustomed, as a sort of god,
To see the sultan, rich in many a gem,
Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad
(That royal bird, whose tail's a diadem,)
With all the pomp of power, it was a doubt
How power could condescend to do without.

*** George Gordon Noel Byron

Awwwwwww, thats beautiful, Aragon!!! Wishing you and Kanga a very Happy and Wonderful New Year!!!

as there has been too much negativity around lately :o)))

Christmas is near and we are apart,
But the love for you I hold in my heart.
A walk in the snow together again,
Your presense is here, its on the wind.

Stars are shining, I can picture your eyes
They sparkle and shine as they gaze into mine
Beams from the moon extend in the light
Creating this paradise, this night

I close my eyes, and imagine your arms
Clasping around me, holding me tight
A breath blows past my ear
Or was that a kiss, from your loving lips?

A wish on a star and a prayer to god
A letter to Santa, i need u here
For the only gift i would cherish you see
Is you in my arms on christmas eve

I gaze out my window, now nearly midnight
will my wish come true, was i good this year?
A knock on my door, I Stop, I catch my breath
My heart a flutter, Could it be?

I RUN to open the door, what do i see
A dream come true, you are there with a bag of love and its ALL for me.

xx for da Kanga xx

Happy xmas and HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL (i thought id get that one in early since the last one was late)

Hey...now you're talking, Guns at Church!

Oh, I was born with the name Geraldine
With hair coal black as a raven.
I travelled my life without a care,
Ah, but all my love I was savin'.
Oh, the winds blew high and the trees did sway,
Not much from life was I askin'.
Till I met someone to give all my love,
All my love, so long an' lasting.
Oh, good were the parts we played in our game
And a long ways off was tomorrow.
But my love was a rambler and restless as the sea,
And in the tide came sorrow.
Oh, a child of the night is goin' to be born,
I can't explain my confusion.
Is my love thinkin' to marry me at all
Or of the freedom he thinks he'll be losin'?
I sit with my friends in the gay crowded room,
My friends they're smokin' and a-talkin'.
But it all seems so empty, my love is not there,
So I'll go into the streets a-walkin'.
My baby is a-growin' as a-growin' it must,
If I were to lose it, it would grieve me.
My love is so helpless and I'm wonderin' what to do.
Oh, how I yearn to help him.
Oh, we could go to the land of your choice
Where the false shame won't come knockin' at our door.
I've a feeling in my heart and it's crushing all my hopes,
I think I'm gonna be hurt some more,
Oh, I was born with the name Geraldine,
With hair coal black as a raven.
I travelled my life without a care,
Ah, but all my love I was savin'.

*** Donovan

Jeez Linda thats awful. In the UK we hear about kids taking guns to school in America and its so difficult to imagine it. A lot of kids here have never seen a real gun, and most schools have some form of religious education, even if its only an hour a week. My kids regularly to go church with their school. .

Wo ist zu diesem Innen
ein Außen? Auf welches Weh
legt man solches Linnen?
Welche Himmel spieglen sich drinnen
im dem Binnensee
dieser offenen Rosen, dieser sorglosen, sieh:
wie sie lose im Losen
liegen, als könnte nie
eine zitternde Hand sie verschütten.
Sie können sich selber kaum
halten; vielen ließen
sich überfüllen und fließen
über von innenraum
in die Tage, die immer
voller und voller sich schließen,
bis der ganze Sommer ein Zimmer
wird, ein Zimmer in einem Traum.

-------------------------------------------

The Inner Rose

Where is there for this inner
an outer? Upon which hurt
does one lay such fine linen?
And which heavens are reflected within them,
upon the interior seas
of these open roses, these carefree ones, see:
how loose in looseness
they lie, as if a trembling hand
could never tip them over.
They can hardly hold themselves
erect; many allow themselves
be filled all too full and flow
over from inner space
into the days, which, ever
more and more full, close in upon themselves,
until the entire summer becomes
a chamber, a chamber in a dream.

            •• Rainer Rilke

no but amazingly all former convos with you
- regardless of about swiss history or about
austrian aristocracy - turned to elaborations
about italian perverts ... I sense a fixation. :-)

Written by a 12-year Old Girl in Boston

Now I lay me down in school
Where praying is against the rule.
For this great nation under God
Finds mention of Him very odd.
If Scripture now the class recites
It violates the Bill of Rights.
Anytime my head I bow
Becomes a federal matter now.
The law is specific; the law is precise.
Praying out loud is no longer nice.
Praying aloud in a public hall
Upsets those who believe in nothing at all.
In silence alone we can meditate and
if God should get the credit-great!
They are bringing their guns,
I don't dare bring my Bible,
To do so might make me liable.
So, now oh Lord, this plea I make;
Should I be shot in school,
My soul please take.

Music: breathing of statues.
Perhaps: silence of paintings.
You language where all language ends.
You time standing vertically on the motion of mortal hearts.
Feelings for whom? O you the transformation
of feelings into what?--: into audible landscape.
You stranger: music.
You heart-space grown out of us.
The deepest space in us, which, rising above us, forces its way out,--
holy departure:
when the innermost point in us stands
outside, as the most practiced distance, as the other side of the air:
pure, boundless,
no longer habitable.

        •• Rainer Rilke

<taurec are you accusing me of being a pervert? O>:-)

yeah it's quite perverted - I knew you would like it.

OMG Linda ROFLMAO SOOOooo hard!! Dat's a good one!

DrRobinson, this is so beautiful and written from the heart. Your Special Friend, is very lucky to have a good Friend like you.

It's one day after Christmas
I'm crabby and I'm broke.
I'm so full of ham and fruitcake
I think I'm gonna croak.
It's nice to see the relatives
I wonder when they'll leave.
They've been camping in my bathroom
since early Christmas Eve.
They're eating everything in sight
and sleeping in my bed.
I been sacked out in the basement
with my beagle, Fred.
The relatives have all gone out
and left their screaming brats.
The toilet bowl is all plugged up
and I can't find the cat.
It's Christmastime at my house,
the relatives are here.
They eat me out of house and home.
and drink up all my beer.
I love the decorations,
and the sleigh bells in the snow
But I wish those pesky relatives
would take their kids and go.
Those cookie crunchers fed the dog
a twenty pound rib roast.
His feet are sticking in the air
like skinny old fence posts.
Now they're in a free-for-all,
the girls against the boys.
They're fighting over boxes
'cause they're bored with all their toys
My mother-in-law is snoring
in my favorite TV chair.
Those kids are stringing lights on her
and tinseling her hair
I oughta wake her up
before the fireworks begin.
But I wanna see those blue sparks fly
when they plug her in.

Yes it is.

Beautifully written, Doc!! :-) Thats the voice, the heart of a true friend..

Let me be the bandage for your bleeding;
Let me be the ocean for your tears.
Let me be the secret of your healing;
Let me be the song to still your fears.

Love isn't love that cannot love in darkness,
Nor is it love that turns away from pain;
Nor would I love would I not hold your sadness
And with my love your love of life sustain.

So do not think your malady a burden,
And do not think my willingness deceit.
Just let your sorrow flow into my garden,
And I will share with you the harvest sweet.

For my special friend!!

you sound like an insider. :-))

Nice fantasy. I don't believe it.

Lay down O heart
be still and calm
rest in earth arms so warm, but:

be ready for wonders, surprises and charm!

For unto us on Christmas day
a child is born for you today,

a Savior reaches out for hearts
that lay there in sadness

awaiting; lonely..

O, He is True
and waits for you;
he will never let you down

see how His Love's shown...

Hope your Heart'll be blessed on
this Christmas Day
and the year to come full off wonders may..

Lay down, O heart, lay down and sleep
Down in the earth where you belong
Let wind wash o’er this cold so deep
And let my dreams be warm and long

Your words ring true and soothe my pain
But actions tell a different tale
No sun can shield me from the rain
While I’m left stranded in the vale

My time with you is heaven’s kiss
My time alone the kiss of death
For other loves eclipse the bliss
That slips away with dying breath

A heart with force can ne’er be won
Devotion never claimed by right
And happiness, like sinking sun
Embarks upon the lonely night

A man I am with simple mind
Betrayed by those he loves the best
And peace this heart will never find
Until I lay it down to rest

Lay down, O heart, lay down and sleep
Down in the earth where you belong
Let wind wash o’er this cold so deep
And let my dreams be warm and long

A Christmas Poem

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves".
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions at the north pole
Were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.

Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner, Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!

The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their roof-tops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."

And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in over-due compensation.

So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.

And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific.

No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.

So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.

Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even you.
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth."

*tears in my eyes... so true Linda ~ however I must say I know of people who think that way and feel that way.. my Mom spoke that way the other day and it made me feel so desperate.... how to make her understand? Guess, I write this poem for her on a card, for her to behold and to keep it close to her heart, whenever she feels that lonely again... Thanks, Linda!

How beautiful and how true. Thanks for sharing Linda.

Verna S Teeuwissen

We won't have a Christmas this year, you say
For now the children have all gone away;
And the house is so lonely, so quiet and so bare
We couldn't have a Christmas that they didn't share.
 
We won't have a Christmas this year, you sigh,
For Christmas means things that money must buy.
Misfortunes and illness have robbed us we fear
Of the things that we'd need to make Christmas this year.
 
We won't have a Christmas this year you weep,
For a loved one is gone, and our grief is too deep;
It will be a long time before our hearts heal,
And the spirit of Christmas again we can feel.
 
But if you lose Christmas when troubles befall,
You never have really had Christmas at all.
For once you have had it, it cannot depart
When you learn that true Christmas is Christ in your heart.

Copyright © Verna S Teeuwissen

Awww I think its sweet :o) Well done, Kanga :oD

I agree with Stardust ...

only objection of mine would be, the rhythm is
a bit too simple for a long poem. that's a personal
taste and makes me perceive it as prose as well. :-)